Tempting Isabel (Paradise South #1) (13 page)

CHAPTER 15

S
he couldn’t stop
creaming in her barely existent panties, despite his socially acceptable distance as they walked through the Airington lobby, only his two fingers at the base of her back ushering her on. His limited touch was torturous, not enough, and just too much to take. She needed him fast and now and nothing less would do.

But she had to wait. He forced her to be patient. The polite space he gave her continued to and inside the elevator, then through the hall to the penthouse door, as if he was conscious of the hotel’s cameras this time. Or maybe holding back to counter the association the penthouse held for them, trying to erase last time’s incident before tearing her clothes off? Yeah, he was probably just being a gentleman. And if so, that was sweet, and good.

But the lack of his heat, his
core-stirring
distraction gave her time to think, to question.

That was bad.

The jumbled emotions that had boiled up on the beach behind the bar earlier that night started bubbling again. Doubting again. Underlying warnings in her head followed by Roberto’s words crept in. But she fought back, calling up fantastical visions—a wild feast of sensual surges, rippling orgasms—to drown out the memory of last time’s degrading episode. The one that’d had her raging off after drenching Zack in a vodka shower.

As he dipped his room key into the slot, his hand swept up her back, the warmth of his palm bringing her back to present, quieting all thoughts. She felt anchored, secure. It would be okay. He was there. They’d be in each other’s arms, in their groove again, in only minutes from now. He’d bring her the awaited release she needed.

And that was all she needed.

*

He escorted her inside. The suite was in a state of tidy chaos. Cleaned by housekeeping, yes, but only around the piles of paperwork, newspapers, maps, and strewn file folders lying on every available surface.
Busy boy.
Even the sofa was taken, his open laptop with its charging cable carelessly strung across the back of it. And under the machine, some ‘Spanish for Idiots’ guide?
Huh.

Zack gave her a
close-lipped
smile and then scurried past her to move the computer and to consolidate the piles.

She watched him hungrily and with some amusement. That slight nervousness in him had returned as soon as they had crossed the suite’s threshold, reminding her of his sweet, endearing charm at their first meeting when they’d joked and talked about nothing and everything for hours at The Five Breezes.

He brushed her arm on one walk by, and a shiver shot up her back. That sensual vibe of his trumped all. It had a power over her, a controlling, chilling power.

Zack was almost done shuffling things from one pile to another when she noticed a white linen sleeve hanging from a chair under a teetering pile of newspapers. Her heat turned to nervousness—it was definitely a woman’s sleeve, judging from the cuff. Just as she felt a flood of regret replacing the soothing comfort she had felt, Zack caught her eying the pile and moved directly toward it. To cover it up? To make an excuse for another lingering article of some woman’s clothing, another insult that her pride just wouldn’t be able to take? Another jagged, disappointing end to an otherwise unbelievable, unforgettable night?

He picked up the newspapers and pulled out the white linen article. He brought it to his nose and smelled it as he walked it over to her, a smile in his eyes. “You left it here. It was my ticket to seeing you again. My excuse, so I could apologize, and explain and to”—he grabbed her and pulled her in, her face now inches from his—“be near you again. You’re a drug, Isabel. An amazing, healing drug.” He followed his words with a slow, tender kiss, gently dipping his tongue into her mouth, then sweetly sucking her top lip. “I really don’t have a line of women, at least not since I met you, Isabel. It’s not lip service. You’ve taken me over…entirely.”

Warmth spread through her. She became a melting, dripping icicle in his hands, no longer sharp or painfully cold.

She was still mildly embarrassed, though, at her suspiciousness. It may even have been misconstrued by him as jealousy. And she wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t hers. Nor would she want him to be…or, she wasn’t supposed to want him to be.

Whatever.
The jacket being hers was a relief. The night could continue––she could allow herself to have him and be had by him, at least for the night.
Only
tonight.

But, Isabel.
What he said…when he handed you the jacket.

She tried like hell to ignore the feelings his words had ignited in her, to halt her inner crazy, to switch off the voice of warning inside her.

Just get on with it, Isabel.

Right.

She yanked his shirt up to gain access to his drawstring again and was completely unprepared for the display. His tanned chest made of broad plates of tight muscle halted her breath. His smooth yet rippled stomach begged her fingers to feel, to caress. And yes, her fingertips surrendered, brushing his skin lightly, tracing the definition of his
rock-hard
middle, each muscular indentation making her sex shudder with anticipation.

But as she took in the sight of him, that damned boding voice of hers spoke up again. His drug reference. Was he
addicted
to her? Infatuated? Like Roberto’s obsession, except that Roberto was like a brother while Zack was an
ultra-magnetic
god, a living pool of ecstasy she couldn’t wait to dive into.

Screw the bigger issues. One night was all she asked for. She put her foot down—literally, her right foot stomped the suite’s
ultra-plush
carpeted floor. Her mind had no say in this—as if any part of her being had a say. It was crystal clear that Zack held all the control, like a telepathic, hypnotic, otherworldly hold on her. Under his spell and his heat, her hands continued to fumble like mad with his drawstring, but then his hands came up to hers, gently stopping her anxious efforts.

“Wait.” He pulled her hands up and around his neck. “Isabel, I’m so trying not to freak you out right now, but the last two weeks have been a kind of hell for me, not being able to find you. So now that I have you, I just really want, you know, to relish every ounce of you. And I want to explain.” He kissed her on the crook of her neck and led her by the hand to the minibar.

Wait?
That’s all she heard.

Déjà vu.
Please, no.

Patience, Isabel
. She nodded and blinked at him. “Slow, of course.”

She watched him pour the two glasses of vodka then curl his lip as he put hers firmly in her hand. “To drink, not to pour.”

She gave him a flirtatious glare and lifted her glass. “To drinking, not pouring…together.”

He met her glass with his, then they took their first pulls while holding each other’s fiery stares like tigers in heat. She liked this, his attention, their deliberately slow and sensual vibe.
Slow wasn’t so bad.
And she’d keep going with the pace he was setting, despite her teetering volition. But if too much more time passed, she knew her mental processes would reign victorious. And if that happened, she’d bolt, no hanging panties needed.

He kept her gaze as he relaxed into his drink, then began to make small talk. She inhaled, seeking more endurance, more energy it took for her not to attack him. The bar between them was already too much hard separation, and idle chatter was not going to help matters. Even his voice—God, so thick and deep—ramped up her arousal.

No, she had to move things along, get closer to her goal, closer to him.

*

She downed the rest of her drink. The glimmer in his eye when she set the empty glass down made her smile and clench hard at her core. The firewater flowed down and through her. Spiking heat and all, she began to forget her worries, her rush, her angst. Suddenly, finally she could just be there with him. God, how at ease she felt. It was more than a comfort level, but an actual physical ease. She even breathed deeper, more fully. She almost felt at home, her shoulders relaxed and lowered, allowing for more air to fill her chest, bringing with it a tingling sensation that rose up to her head, a heightened peace.

And with it came a solid confidence. She tore herself away from his searing gaze and moved to the sofa. She sunk into the plush middle cushion and just watched him, craving him from across the expansive room. His back muscles and shoulder blades flexed and shifted as he returned the liquor bottle to its shelf, the glasses to the sink, and the minibar towel to the counter. She bit her lower lip, her eagerness for him growing, mounting. His burgeoning shoulders framed that chiseled
V-shaped
torso down to his waist, culminating at his perfectly sculpted ass draped beautifully by his khaki linen pants—those pants that she wanted off him. Badly.

Okay, so the impatience factor had returned full force—though still laced with that
meant-to
-
be-here
ease. She crossed her right leg over her left to dam the flow of excitement threatening to pour from her sex before he could even make it over to her.

He left the bar just achingly slow while her hunger grew. He finally crossed the room to her, his expression both pensive and determined. His face, tilted slightly, studied her, like he wanted to tell her something. He licked his lips and swallowed hard as if in preparation. Maybe more words to clear the air about last time? But she knew she couldn’t handle any further delay, mentally, or, for God’s sake, physically. And she didn’t want any further explanation from him. She somehow trusted his sincerity, that she wouldn’t be disrespected by him again, consciously or otherwise. He had actually gone searching for her with nothing but her first name, hunting for her to apologize.

And, yes, also to have her.

But what did any of that matter, anyway? This would be it. Their one night together, their first and their last. And right then, she needed the night to begin. She just needed him near her, over her, in her, of her.

“May I interrupt your thoughts,” he whispered, kneeling in front of her, dragging his thumb along her jawline. “I want to tell you so much, Isabel. So goddamn much. But my willpower is only so strong. I thought the drink would help, but you, on this couch, I…I can tell you what’s been on my mind after—”

She pressed her mouth to his to silence him, pulling him by his shirt collar tight against her anguished, throbbing sex right there between her sprawling,
wide-open
and welcoming legs.

CHAPTER 16

S
he ripped and
buttons flew. She untied and unzipped and pulled. And he was all there, his long, hard steel which she’d held, throbbing hot, only a bit ago at the club. But up to that point, she’d only imagined its vital definition and girth in her mind’s eye.

Now her eyes, mesmerized, could relish all of him, there in her elated,
heart-thumping
reality.

She leaned in, starving for a taste. Then she consumed him, a
never-ending
mouthful of sweet hard candy. Pure bliss. He bore back ecstatically, then leaned forward again, anxious to watch the devouring of his entire cock by her
tongue-moistened
lips.

She pulled him out quickly, coyly, then smiled at the slight taste of him in her mouth. Her eyes hit his as she left him throbbing and moved to stand. Slowly, methodically, she removed her top overhead and dropped it to the floor. He shifted, his jaw tightening, his hips lifting in the air.

His reaction burned her alive.

Faster now, she undid the clasp of her skirt and wiggled her curves out of it. He inhaled through flared nostrils. And how she loved his frustration, her sex getting wetter and hotter from his intensity alone. She flung her high heels behind her, then looked down at her black lace bra cupping her breasts, her nipples out, begging for his tongue to come and play, to circle, to tease. She tilted her head and moved her eyes to meet his.
Not yet.
She’d make him wait just a little longer. Because he’d kept her waiting.

Her hands slid down to the crotch of her matching and moist lace panties. Her fingers found within her slick folds that tiny bit of material he had used to snap her into reeling lunacy. She pulled that little lace shred to one side, her pulsating clit now free and on clear display for him, just below her utterly silken mound. Her sex beckoned—no, screamed—for his touch.

But teasing him, keeping him deprived and wanting, sparked her senses to a new level. She moved her exposed cunt closer to him,
inch-by
-
aching-inch
closer. Then she kicked her leg up on the high back of the sofa, her arousal so near his mouth that he could almost lick her pussy clean. But when he reached for her with his fidgety, anxious hands, she clicked her tongue and shifted her hips back again. “
Uh-uh
, look from there, buddy.” She grinned with an intentional glint of glee in her voice.

Then she slid her index finger into her mouth and got it dripping wet. She slowly slid it down between her heavy breasts, her cleavage glistening with perspiration, then around a nipple twice, making it pebble more, teasing him harder. Her finger continued its downward path, over her stomach, into her navel, dipping in and out, making her squirm for a nanosecond. Then she ran her finger straight down from there, down to her anxious, clenching cunt, which burned, begged for direct and immediate attention.

When her moist trigger finger met her glistening wet clit and began tapping and twirling herself into rolls of ecstasy, she watched his eyes. They were filled with ravenous frustration. She knew he was so close to losing his ability to keep away. She had him where she wanted him, and she loved the control, at least for this one illusory moment.

*

He attacked. His arm wrapped around her perfectly round ass, skin so smooth, radiant, hot. He yanked her onto him. He sank back into the sofa while his two hands lifted her fully, placing her perfect pussy onto his summoning mouth. He needed to taste her. He ripped her thong at the waist to get unbridled access to her glorious, beckoning velvet folds, so anxious, too sweet. She was so swirling wet. He sucked her delicately, drinking her in, lapping her up. Like an elixir from above.

She moaned when he focused his lips at her clit, sucking more, maybe a little too zealously, but ravenous for her, he couldn’t hold back.

She grabbed his hair and tightened her thighs around his head. He could tell she was ready, so ready. And then she came, hard and rhythmic, squirting sweet syrup into his mouth, her body above him convulsing with each violent spasm. Oh God, this woman! He stayed at her juncture, his mouth pressed hard and firm to her, unwilling to let her go. He moaned as she finished, moving his hands up her ass, squeezing and massaging, memorizing the feeling of her.

A final hum then whimper, and she slid down and folded into his lap. “My plan has changed,” she whispered. Out of breath but not out of energy, she shifted to straddle him. She began grinding into him, her soaking wet pussy gliding over his
rock-solid
cock.

“Plan?” he asked, locked into her deep golden eyes.

“I think it’ll be more like five or six. Not to be selfish, but I can see it won’t be any trouble for you,” she said, as if he’d read and understood her thoughts.

“Five or six what, angel?” His brain was clouded, the rhythmic motion of her lower lips further hardening his pulsating rod, driving him wild, making it impossible to think.

“Orgasms,” she stated in a breathy rasp.

Sweet obliterating orgasms were certainly the plan, but he was a sky’
s-the
-limit kind of guy.

“Oh no, darlin’, don’t place limits. Not with me.” He rolled her from the couch to the floor. Dragged her to the rug in front of the tall frameless windows. Fifty floors above Vallarta, as if on stage, a show for the world, and for her. It was his sense of pride inciting him to deliver to the fullest.

But when he looked down at her, his frame now hovering over her, caging her, owning her, she met his gaze, held it, owning him right the hell back.

Her
soul-deep
eyes drilled into his, shards of her heat piercing his heart with that look. And all he wanted now was to please her. Screw the outside world, and screw his own needs. Fuck his pride! All he wanted was her pleasure, her release. Jesus, he wanted her happiness, above all else.

*

With full and utter focus, he tended her.

And teased her. With the dripping tip of his
solid-steel
cock, he tickled her mound, then her folds and pulled back to line her inner thigh. Shifting his cock forward again, he rounded her velvety lotus. But only for a moment. He pulled away again, wedging his steel this time between her welcoming ass cheeks, slowly dragging a warm line of
pre-cum
along the way.

“Fuck me!” she cried out. “Fuck me now, damn it!”

“No, no. Not yet, angel.”

He shifted far up on her writhing body, his hands holding firm her fleshy breasts. Then he thrust his engorged cock between them, his shimmering crown pressing up against her chin. She bent her head and flicked her tongue at his tip. He gasped. She tickled him again, leaving her sweet saliva on the sensitive spot at the start of his ridge. The massive suite’s icy current gave him a chill, forcing him to blow out a hard stream of air, his cock’s heightened sensitivity just too much to take.

On his knees, straddling her gossamer body, he paused, in awe, not believing the view beneath him. On stage again, he loved this play, he loved his part in it, and he was enamored by the woman who played opposite him.

*

His thumbs tapped at each of her hard pert nipples, teasing her, making her squirm. His throbbing erection remained cushioned between her weighty tits which glistened with her perspiration. She writhed under his heft, so he reached back with one hand and lodged it between her thighs, cupping her achingly hot mound, keeping her cunt anchored with pressure, just until he was ready to partake.

With her full breasts surrounding his cock, he slid himself forward and back, coming to the edge, too close to exploding over it. Then she brought her fingers to the root of his length, then lower, lightly brushing and kneading his sensitive sac, driving him mad, making him thrust faster and faster.

“Not…yet,” he said to himself out loud. He wanted her hot clenching cunt gripping him endlessly when he did finally go.

But he was too goddamn close.

He grabbed her shoulders and flipped her over like a pillow in the middle of the night. His stiff cock hovered, elevated in the air, bobbing until it slapped down on the dip of her lower back. Her birthmark, his missing piece, stared up at him, and he smiled, slowed himself down, remembered how hard it had been to find this angel again. He hadn’t even
found
her, he’d just happened upon her again. Thankfully.

He leaned back, taking her smooth mocha body in with his eyes and into his hands. His hands caressed her arms and her back, massaged her sweet round ass, then, reaching behind him, they slid down her silky thighs, calves, ankles, feet, brushing her skin with just his fingertips.

Her breasts pressed against the floor, spilling out from under her. He tilted forward, pressing his needy cock into her as he traced every inch of her with his fingers. She shivered and arched her back from the chill.

Smiling, living for each and every one of her
on-cue
reactions, he sat up, grabbed his raging
hard-on
and dribbled his
pre-cum
down her spine. Then he leaned in and blew a light stream of air over the shimmering trail he’d left. She quivered again, flat on the carpeted floor—a deep, resounding purr trembled out of her.

He leaned down. At her mouth, he kissed her and traced her luscious pout with his anguishing tongue. He was ready, ready to focus on being locked into the angel beneath him, getting as deeply connected as humanly possible.

His mouth still at hers, he drew his hips back then swiftly jammed his thick shaft between her ass cheeks, making her gasp. He inhaled pure pleasure at the sounds she made. He pressed his body into hers, needing her heat, then suddenly pushed up with his arms, planked over her, hovering. A disappointed moan rumbled from her throat, but was replaced with a sated hum the next instant as he dragged his cock down the curve of her ass crack. His magic wand tickled her starburst with its tip on the way to her screaming, velvety core.

She lifted her ass up into the air for him, her hole visibly tightening and opening, calling to him so loudly he could hardly control himself. Then his crown reached just outside of glory and held there, trembling with an overpowering need.

He reached for a condom from the rear pocket of his pants which had been discarded on the floor just feet away. Isabel panted below him while he worked to catch his own breath, his chest heaving from the impossible view she had on display just for him.

Racing against his impending explosion, his teeth tore opened the packet. He rolled on the rubber, parted her luscious folds with the tip of his voracious cock, and slammed into her glorious, oozing sex.

*

Savage fucking sweetness.

Tight and hot—just as he’d dreamed she’d be, an
all-encompassing
heaven—while, at same time, her canal hugged his length, warm and tender, like he was fucking home.

He pushed himself in just a bit farther and got a guttural moan of delight out of her. Oh God, her noises, they made him lengthen all the more. And the bliss of her clenching cunt, it made him lightheaded. Then he hit her depth. Fucking divine! But his lustful greed for her had no end. No end in sight.

He slid out, slick and wet, then pushed back into her perfection fast and hard. Keeping that rhythm, relishing it, he pushed his throbbing staff to her depths again and again and again.

His surprise ability to hold out was only balanced by the infinite joy of filling her with everything he had. His cock inside her was a perfect fit, and at that moment, he swore he could’ve gone on inside her forever.

But he had brought her to the point of no return without realizing it, while he almost lost it to her cries. Her body trembled, jerked through her second climax.

“Keep fucking me! I have more…in me. Don’t you dare stop!” she demanded, writhing under him, her fists pounding the floor.

“I wouldn’t dare, Isabel. Fuck—I wouldn’t”—he groaned—“dare”—he grunted—“stop.”
Hell,
I’d go on for eternity if you’d let me.

He continued his torrent—glad, proud, elated to put her high peak before his own. He infused her with his
everything
. And delivering full and complete satisfaction gave him renewed energy, control, stamina. He would goddamn earn his release, that he knew. And if he could time it right, he’d come in on one of her waves—her biggest wave, her typhoon.

His onslaught drove on. Judging by her new round of screams, he was bringing her to the ends of the earth. And by proxy, he was right there with her.

She breathed his name over and over while frantically clawing at the carpet. With desperation, she lifted her delectable, full backside to meet him, his steel still inside her warm, wet pussy.

She pushed up, now on her hands and knees. “Now like this,” she said panting, showing him how she wanted to get fucked. Zack loved it, her initiative, her
ever-sexy
goddamn confidence.

Arms straddling hers, he leaned forward and kissed her hard, a second endless and deep connection. Through their mouths’ clash she panted, “More. Give me more of you.”

Fuck me!
He tore his lips away. “What this woman wants”—tongues
re-tangled
, then a gasp for air—“this woman gets.” Choppy words, rasped.

Give
, he would. He pushed himself up to kneel and braced to pound her harder. With utter focus, his eyes absorbed the view—her curves, her edges and lines, her smooth juts and ledges and cliffs to pure bliss. But his eyes needed more. The
pleasure-assault
continued while he leaned left to watch her breasts rock and sway with his rhythmic thrusts. They were just begging for attention. He straightened for balance then took one delicious handful, her
rock-hard
nipple wedged, squeezed between his fingers, while his other hand gripped her hip to jerk her ass back to slap against him. His cock, then just inside her entrance, rocketed into her like a torpedo. She gasped with
awe-stricken
delight.
Mmmm-hmm
.
More fuel, more momentum to keep driving and drilling into her.